Page 60 of Aftertaste

Seems like I’m the only adult left here and I’m barely even there,I think glumly as I reach down and pull his bag off the floor. I didn’t have to look at Mom to know she was close to losing her absolute shit over the unwelcome dust it probably kicked up, but I didn’t want them laying into him already.

“Come on,” I tell him in a quiet tone.

I wasn’t sure where the hell I was gonna lead him, but the less time spent as a family, the better.

Chapter Three

"So, did you get all of those tattoos in … um …” my voice trailed off as my eyes dropped to the dinner on my plate. Rogan chuckled good-naturedly as he leaned back in his chair.

“Lock up? Yeah. I got bored. Most of them I did myself, but a couple of them I had a few buddies do for me,” he replies with a grin. “Like ‘em?”

I cut my eyes toward Dad. I wasn’t sure how he wanted me to answer, but the truth was—I did. They made him look more grown up than I remembered him, and even slightly dangerous.

The kind of guy that a father warns his daughter about.

The look in Dad’s eyes told me to answer him with a lie, so I took a deep breath, turned my gaze back toward my expectant brother and smiled, “I think they’re pretty cool.”

Rogan’s grin widened slightly as he went back to his meal. Mom had Miss Lucy make a big ol’ pot roast, some baked potatoes, and a homemade loaf of bread. I think Miss Lucy even liked Rogan’s tattoos some because every time she snuck a glance at him, she smiled.

“So, what are your plans now that you’re out?” Mom asked before Dad had a chance to reprimand me over my comment.

Rogan shrugs, “No idea. I figure I can get a job somewhere.”

Dad cleared his throat and we all turned to look at him, but he picked up his newspaper, flipped it open, and began to read the first thing his eyes fell on.

“Where am I staying, anyway?” Rogan asks curiously, turning his eyes toward Mom.

“With Hunter.”

“Got your own place, Princess?” he teases with a smirk.

My face flushed red with embarrassment as I looked down at my plate again. I knew what he was thinking; Dad opened up his endless wallet to me and bought me my condo, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Yup!” I reply as cheerfully as I can. I did my best not to force it because I’m sure the last thing he needed was for someone else to feign happiness at him being back. “And it’s got two rooms, so you’ll have your own space until you get on your feet.”

“Cool.”

That was the end of The Winstead Family Reunion Dinner conversation.

* * *

“I’m beat,” Rogan said as soon as he closed the passenger side door to my car. I love her, my girl—I even named her Betty because to me, she’s a bad ass. A 1965 Ford Mustang, fully restored, brand-new leather seats, and an engine louder than Dad when he blows a gasket.

“Where’d you get this?” he inquires tiredly as he leaned his seat back and closed his eyes.

“Dad,” I reply quietly.

It was the one hand-me-down I got from him and it belonged to his older brother. When he died a few years back, Dad told me the estate had left it to me, and I was pumped.

Still am.

Rogan snickered before he took a deep breath and let out a long-winded sigh.

“Take me home, little sister.”

Chapter Four

After I parked Betty in her assigned space, I led Rogan up the walkway. It struck me as odd that Mom was so damn worked up about someone seeing her with her wildly tattooed, ex-con son, while I kinda felt proud to have such a tough guy for a brother.

---